famine

i’m unsure if i feel more im poverished, povero in timesof summer or winter, whetherof heat adhering, humidlyhewed, to the skin, (s)weltering—or of hope stole like breath, snowilyfleeting—condensation of some part soma and some some part suppose(d) have&lack : the chiaroscuro of being Shine Ballard, otiose&outré, currently creates and resides on this plane(t). You can

We I Us

in an attempt to show what’s challenging to translate I watch nature planet earth documentaries to better prepare for death and what’s ahead for us  (when financial inheritance is generational sitting on the sidelines is the embodiment of an effort to protect a recognizable pattern) today like the birds we’ve left and gone away before

ALIEN RESURRECTION (1997)

All I can think about‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Really‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Are girders, now Who is‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Getting viscous‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

Making Friends with Your Five-Year-Old Self: A Crash Course

First off, it’s important to meet him in a familiar place. Your grandparents’ backyard, say. Right beside the balding patch of grass where the basketball goal is set up, where the long, cracked-concrete, skinned-knee driveway ends and that forever backyard begins. When you tell him who you are, it’s a toss-up as to whether he’ll

Insomnia

content warning : abortion She won’t let me sleep. She has been standing at the foot of my bed for five nights now, sixty hours, three hundred minutes, two hundred and sixteen thousand seconds. When I close my eyes I swear I can smell her honey breath, her whispered chant of why, why, why. Lukewarm

Midnight

Mahi flicks her cigarette. I watch the ashes float down to the ground from the sixth floor of the apartment building and cross my arms, resting them against the tall black railing surrounding the balcony. The night is warm, but the cold from the floor tiles seeps in through my bare feet. The light from

A Science Fiction Story

There are two basic storiesin science fiction concerningEarth-based inter-stellarexploration. The first (1) beingpeople from Earthleavingand meeting aliencivilizationselsewhere in the galaxy/universe/multiverse.In this story,people flee Earth,often due to some catastrophe(either one that has occurredor one impending)(either one caused by environmental collapseor the ravages of war),in a feeble attemptto save the fateof human-kind.In this exodus story,humans occasionally travelto

prologue

he & i, samenamed, we countedthose stitches, together. oddly,they were more disturbingthan that greystiffeningthingpresented, pajamaedas it was. we had not cried until that mathymoment—i’ve despisedarithmetic since. he cried to his mother, i to mine,of such laxity, the lack ofdecorum—they consoled us, or they didn’t.i cannot remember. i swore to never again lingerover a thing that

To the former bird by Big Bear Lake

they plucked off every once of meat. leftyour beak, feathers, feet lone and frore scraped beside the lake’s dank shore. i’m not sure what your story was. if i knew i’d tell it. even if you passed your days circuitingstraightforward same, i’d beatify your mundane down mountain, over bourbon. Oakley Ayden (she/her) is an autistic,